


Mey-Gon 02 - Fresh Start

by SexyWookieeSquadron



Series: Mey-Gon stories [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adorable BB-8 (Star Wars), Apologies, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Coffee, F/M, Falling In Love, Insomnia, Matchmaker BB-8 (Star Wars), Nightmares, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Planet D'Qar (Star Wars), Protective Poe Dameron, Resistance, Resistance Leader Poe Dameron, Starting Over, The Resistance Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:35:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyWookieeSquadron/pseuds/SexyWookieeSquadron
Summary: She's safe with the Resistance now, but that doesn't mean things are any easier for Mey-Gon. After a restless first night, she finds herself struggling with even the simplest task; but luckily a certain pilot happens by to get a second shot at rescuing her.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Original Character(s)
Series: Mey-Gon stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057475





	Mey-Gon 02 - Fresh Start

_Day 2 at the Resistance Base_

Mey-Gon stared at the machine blankly. There was a little icon that looked abstractly like a cup of caf but she’d pushed it and swiped it and tried everything she could think of, yet her mug still sat empty under the spout. Even if she wasn’t dead tired and shaken to her core, she still probably couldn’t have figured out the commoner machinery. She missed her butler droid so much that she suddenly felt herself tearing up and had to sniff loudly. Embarrassed, she glanced around the mess hall to make sure nobody was staring at her; but the space was mostly empty, and the only other beings up this early were focused on their own food and cups of caf.

She would much rather be sleeping. It wasn’t like she had a job to do yet. However, after the second nightmare in one night about being hunted by stormtroopers, she had decided to drag herself out into the dawn hour and grab some stimulant. Without a uniform yet, she was once again wearing one of her own beach dresses. She had picked one in olive green, a little closer to the color palette of other Resistance uniforms, but the material was still light and thin and left much of her exposed to the chilly D’Qar air. A nice hot drink would help with that, she thought bitterly as she shivered.

Looking around again, she immediately noticed a new figure striding into the mess hall with a thermos in his hand and an astromech droid rolling at his heel. He was wearing trousers and a leather jacket now, rather than a jumpsuit, but there was no mistaking that hair and that face. It was the pilot from the previous day - Wing Commander Dameron. He stopped when he saw her and the droid bumped into his leg, emitting an annoyed beep. At first it looked like he wanted to retreat, but he knew he’d been spotted and resigned to finishing his walk across the room. Mey-Gon snatched her mug out from under the machine and stepped back, also contemplating an escape but unable to think of a dignified way of pulling it off.

“You’re up early,” he commented casually as he arrived at the counter and placed his thermos under the machine.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied, watching carefully as he touched the very same button she had been abusing; only, when he did it, caf came out of the dispenser. She glared at his thermos jealously.

“Are you all right?” he continued, sparing her a glance.

“Sure,” she said simply, wanting to change the subject, “How’s your arm?”

“Nothing a little bacta couldn’t fix,” he rolled his shoulder with the beginnings of a smile, then lowered his eyes shamefully and sighed, “Look, Mey-Gon, I’m sorry I couldn’t get there sooner.”

She nodded, “I’m sorry I left you behind.”

“Well, at least we both made it,” he looked relieved that there were no grudges being held, “Another day, another chance to fight.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, trying not to think about the next battle and how much it might resemble her nightmares.

Suddenly, he lifted the mug out of her hand and placed it under the machine, working his magic on the caf button again, “So...you’re rich?”

“I _was_.”

He chuckled, “I guess we were all _something_ before we got here.”

“What were you?” she tore her eyes away from the stream of caf to look at his face, which suddenly tensed with unease.

“Uh...New Republic Defense Fleet. I just defected for the Resistance a few months ago.”

“Oh, Defense Fleet, huh?” she smirked, recalling how much trouble she was always in for her rants about them and their inaction, “So you were bored.”

His expression set into something more distant and serious, “In this galaxy, you either fight, or you sit back while others fight for you. I figured out which one I preferred.”

She stared at him, slightly dazzled all of a sudden, despite her fatigue. His features were handsome enough - the hair had potential, if he would just put in a little effort - and his style was rugged and utilitarian, but it suited him. She had spent years acting opposite some of the most beautiful beings in the business; she had attended galas on the arm of some of the most powerful males in her system; she had dated and partied with the smoothest, most charming men in the social scene; and yet none of them had ever demonstrated an ounce of the kind of conviction and inspiration that this pilot just had. There was something irresistible about that.

Her thoughts were interrupted when he placed the warm mug back in her hands and she inhaled the glorious scent of the caf wafting up from it. As embarrassed as she was about needing the help, she was grateful that he had once again showed up to rescue her. She looked down at the dark liquid and muttered, “Well, thank you for fighting for me, Wing Commander.”

“Any time,” he smiled genuinely, “And you can call me Poe.”

She looked up with an appreciative grin and again found herself studying his face. He had a nice smile. She wished they’d started out with that kind of smile, but at least they had come to it eventually.

After probably a couple awkward seconds of staring at each other, Poe’s astromech interrupted the pair with a curious whistle. He looked a little embarrassed as he glanced down at the droid then back up at Mey-Gon, “BB-8’s right, we’ve got a lot of work to get started on-” the little droid gave a protesting whine, but he continued, “-so I guess we’ll see you around. I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” she replied lamely, then watched him walk off toward the door while the droid rolling behind him swiveled its photoreceptor between his back and Mey-Gon’s frozen form. As soon as they were gone, she let out a sigh and turned to look for some sugar for her caf.


End file.
